My eyesight bothers me. To see distant images requires me to remove my reading glasses; to see my screen and to read, I need to put them back on. Among many other challenges that fact present is this one, relevant primarily to writing: I cannot simply lift my head and gaze out the window in search of inspiration as I am wont to do. Each time I try, the blurry sight before me reminds me I must remove my reading glasses for even an imperfect view of the world outside my window. I have never wanted so badly as I do now to wear glasses that allow me to see clearly, near and far. Yet I recognize I am fortunate, even with my temporarily poor vision, to have sight. It could be far worse and, for many others, it is.
Well, my notebook computer died, but at least I have a backup desktop that allows me to sit at the computer and stare at the blur. Privilege leaks from my pores.